psalm

137 
1-3 Alongside Babylon’s rivers

we sat on the banks; we cried and cried,

remembering the good old days in Zion.

Alongside the quaking aspens

we stacked our unplayed harps;

That’s where our captors demanded songs,

sarcastic and mocking:

“Sing us a happy Zion song!”

4-6 Oh, how could we ever sing God’s song

in this wasteland?

If I ever forget you, Jerusalem,

let my fingers wither and fall off like leaves.

Let my tongue swell and turn black

if I fail to remember you,

If I fail, O dear Jerusalem,

to honor you as my greatest.

7-9 God, remember those Edomites,

and remember the ruin of Jerusalem,

That day they yelled out,

“Wreck it, smash it to bits!”

And you, Babylonians—ravagers!

A reward to whoever gets back at you

for all you’ve done to us;

Yes, a reward to the one who grabs your babies

and smashes their heads on the rocks!